Cosmic projections underlying in spaces as warm sunburnt bodies move together across the floor purple lights in neon glow attached to the ceiling, mind spinning with the fluorescence. And youth- your mind is spinning with how young you are only seventeen you carry the burden in your stomach the sadness on your shoulder. You are much too young to have abundant regrets to be living yet dead in a bitter grave. Wrong choices overlap each other as the grave gets deeper- I know that sometimes it feels hopeless. Banter with old friends about the aliens and rehab centers, the girl who taught you four square teaching you how to torch the end of a crack pipe. Cycles of the same tornadoes, dreams of constant death,youβve seen your best friends dead body more times than you will admit. Yet theyβve never imagined yours, or imagined you, or cared. The rose colored glasses are ripped from your face given to the other unsuspecting girl who will walk the same journey I did with him. One-sided friendships get lonely lovers are no longer loving and the pino has run out. The purple lights manifest into messages coming across the lifeline simulation- Give up those who have fallen silent, your mission is not with them. The mission is uncertain get a man to prison to watch a wild orca have a family but the process is daily. My mission right now is to live freely let my hair grow and stick my head out the window singing Janis Joplin tunes on the 105.5 The aliens come through once again to extend long hands and acid tabs offering insight into treasures unknown. Time capsules I have yet to bury.
The great thing about cycles is you can stop them.